Free Sandstorm by Anne Mather Page A

fingers against her skin, and the unguarded emotions of the last few minutes had left her dangerously susceptible. 'It—it wasn't your fault,' she got out chokingly, trying to push his hands aside. 'I shouldn't have—have jumped like that. It was a stupid thing to do.'
    'So—let me put it right for you,' he said, unzipping her boots before she could prevent him, and straightening once more. 'Take off your trousers and I will have Karim take them to be sponged and pressed. By the time you are ready to leave they will be dry.'
    Abby made a helpless gesture. 'Oh, very well. Do you— do you have something I can wear?'
    'Well, not trousers, I regret,' he responded shortly, as she fumbled to remove the pants, and then held them protectively in front of her. Then, irritably: 'But why do you act like this? As if I had not seen you this way many times before? As if I did not know your body almost as well as I know my own?'
    Abby merely pressed the garment closer to her. 'You said you had something I could wear,' she reminded him tightly, and with an impatient shrug he led the way into the bedroom.
    Like the sitting room, it was large and high-ceilinged, with a king-sized double bed, and a soft beige carpet underfoot. There were high tallboys, and lots of fitted cupboards, and plenty of mirrors with which to view oneself from every angle. Abby doubted Rachid was aware of them. Whatever else he was, he was not vain, but they made her acutely aware of her ridiculous appearance, and she longed to hide the pale slender length of her legs.
    Rachid extracted a dressing gown from his wardrobe. It was made of dark blue silk and would obviously be too long for her, but at least it would cover her, and Abby took it gratefully.
    'There are splashes of coffee on your jacket, too,' Rachid pointed out as he handed the dressing gown to her. 'I would suggest you send the whole outfit for sponging, except that you might misconstrue my motives.'
    Abby hesitated a moment, and then turning her back on him she quickly removed the jacket, too. With the folds of the dressing gown securely about her, she felt more able to face him, and with a mildly sardonic grimace he gathered the suit and went out of the room.
    Karim was obviously never far away from his master, and it took little time for Rachid to despatch him about his business. Waiting for the servant to depart, Abby was somewhat taken aback when Rachid came back into the bedroom, but meeting her puzzled apprehension, he quickly explained his purpose.
    'The cream is in the bathroom,' he declared, crossing to another door. 'If you will expose the burns, I will deal with them.'
    Abby" sighed. She was tempted to say there was no need, that since the cloth had been removed so swiftly the damage done had been slight, and was already cooling of its own accord. But Rachid had already disappeared into the bathroom, and loath to increase the intimacy of the situation, she determinedly went back into the sitting room.
    She was perched on the sofa when Rachid reappeared, and his eyes narrowed at her obvious efforts to sustain her detachment. She had exposed only one leg to his gaze, and the lower half of that was wrapped around with blue silk.
    Shrugging, he knelt before her, unscrewing the cap of the tube of cream in his hands and squeezing a little of the white substance into his palm. Then firmly and deliberately, he applied the cream to the inflamed flesh, moving his palm gently and rhythmically over its sensitised surface.
    It was amazing how soothing the cream was, Abby thought, feeling all the heat leaving the lesion. As he continued to massage it into the skin, she could feel the taut flesh softening, and its dryness was replaced with regenerative oils. But it wasn't just the cream that was inducing this feeling of well-being inside her. It was the cool hardness of Rachid's hands that brought a sensuous lethargy, and caused her convulsive hold on the robe to be released, exposing her slender limbs with